


Dead Wrong

by makos_lightningrod



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-09
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-03-06 19:17:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3145592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makos_lightningrod/pseuds/makos_lightningrod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A/N:  For Makorra Smut Week - (4) Angry Sex. Excerpt: “Yeah, you’re just scared that your girlfriend’s gonna show you up in front of your squad,” she says, hitting a nerve. He immediately decides to back up and stalk off before things get out of hand, but she’s not willing to let this go. So she stands in his way, shifting from side to side to block any kind of escape. And it’s getting to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dead Wrong

Sometimes she hates the pressure of being the Avatar. The person everyone looks to to fix their problems and save the day, and sometimes she just wants him to understand that she doubts herself. Sometimes she just wants him to agree with her because he truly believes she knows what’s best, even when she doesn’t.

She just wants to pick a fight because she feels hopelessly lost and knows that even if they fight, he’ll always forgive her. Sometimes…Sometimes she’s scared he won’t.

“Maybe the Republic City detectives don’t know all the facts,” Korra says stubbornly, her arms crossed over her chest even though they won’t stay that way for long. She always ends up gesturing wildly, accentuating her points with hand motions and facial expressions that would border on comical if he wasn’t so very frustrated with her.

Mako raises an eyebrow. “Are you generalizing? Or are you really just saying that I don’t know the facts?” He asks, sounding like he’s holding back what he really wants to say. That maybe she has no idea what she’s talking about - that the police force that Republic City has is solid proof. She doesn’t know everything.

She scoffs and looks him carefully in the eye, knowing that she feels the need to guard herself. “Well, I’m not the one who said it,” she says innocently, moving her hands to her hips and giving him a smug smile.

He grows angry and wrinkles his brow, wanting to carefully think about what he’s about to say. But he holds back and scowls. “Well, Korra-” Her name is like ice on his tongue and she feels a shiver pass down her spine. “-maybe you don’t know what the spirits you’re talking about. Just because you’re the Avatar, you think that you’re the justice system, right? Well, it’s getting a little annoying right now because you’re pretty dead wrong.”

“Pretty dead wrong?” She echoes. “What does that mean?”

“It means you’re wrong!” He can’t help but shout at her, knowing that at any other time they’d laugh together, but right now she was looking at him like he was an idiot, and he just wants her to see that he wasn’t some joke. “Wholeheartedly, entirely, absolutely wrong about this!”

He knows he’s taken it too far because by now he usually backs off and goes outside, takes a break to calm his racing pulse and think critically about why they were fighting in the first place. Today, he can’t talk himself into taking a walk around town because right now Korra wasn’t think about the facts and figures but just her gut reaction.

He is wrong. She is right.

Korra bites her lip. “Well, maybe you need to reassess your facts and realize that you’re completely off about this,” she says finally, clearing her throat.

“Well, maybe you need to back off and realize that you’re not needed.”

It comes out before he has a moment to process. Mako, the one who always thinks everything through, says something that he immediately regrets. Because he doesn’t know how to think. He swallows hard and reaches for her. “Korra-” His angry tone suddenly feels tired, as if he’s been locked up in the box with some hardened criminal who won’t give up a confession.

“No.” Her rejection of his sudden outburst makes his hand fall to his side, hanging listlessly. He expects her to turn away. To try to hide her hurt. To not cry. But then she stares him in the eye and narrows her eyes. “I am way more needed than you are,” she says calmly. “I’m the Avatar. I know that. And if we’re going to be throwing insults, I don’t think you should be throwing stones.”

It almost doesn’t dawn on him what she means and his anger suddenly flares. Who is he to feel any sort of remorse for his words? She’s arrogant and obnoxious and thinks she’s so damn fantastic because she’s the Avatar. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you got pretty sloppy at the start,” she replies, jabbing her finger against his chest like he’s some elevator button that’s taking too long to summon the lift. 

“You’re the one that just barges into every situation without even waiting to think,” he growls out, staring down at her finger like he wants to push it off his chest. “You’re the one that gets hurt and messes everything up and just expects everyone else to clean up after you!”

Some part of him regrets each of his hurtful words, but another part feels vindicated. It’s true. She always expects everyone to go along with what she thinks because she’s the Avatar and that holds a power that even Tenzin, Master Airbender, or Lin, Chief of Police, can’t touch.

He slaps her hand to the side, knocking her off balance because she hadn’t expected him to do it. She expects him to back down, and she feels her blood boil that he isn’t. Because, she hates to admit it, it’s exciting for him to challenge her, and she can’t wait to show him that he’s wrong.

Her palm slams against his chest to push him backwards, away from her. “Don’t touch me,” she growls, issuing a challenge she hopes he accepts.

Mako steps back up, invading her space, and she sucks in a breath because his eyes are flaming with emotions, and it sends a thrill up her spine as she just curls her lip, not stepping away and letting him win this round. 

“Then don’t push me,” he warns, feeling his nerves rile up.

“Why?” She doesn’t heed his warning and just rolls her shoulders. “Afraid you’re gonna get knocked over by a woman?” She asks, shooting her hands forward to give him another push. He stumbles back a footstep and digs his heels into the floor. She can feel duckgoosebumps on her arms when she sees him take a slow breath and out comes faint traces of steam.

“You know this has nothing to do with you being a woman,” Mako scowls, unfurling and clenching his fists in a particular fashion. She wonders if he would have the gall to throw a punch at her, but she immediately dismisses the idea. It’s not like he would win.

“Yeah, you’re just scared that your girlfriend’s gonna show you up in front of your squad,” she says, hitting a nerve. He immediately decides to back up and stalk off before things get out of hand, but she’s not willing to let this go. So she stands in his way, shifting from side to side to block any kind of escape. And it’s getting to him.

He reaches out, clamping his hand down around her bicep and tugging her away from the detectives that might overhear, pulling her into his office and slamming the door, the window rattling before he tugs on the string so the blinds roll down. Mako stares at her, breathing heavily, trying to control the steam that’s escaping with each pant.

One moment she’s standing across from him, body coiled tight and ready for a fight, the next she’s slamming him against his desk.

He readies himself for her attack, but grows still when he realizes she’s just tearing off his buttons, the little pings of them scattering on the ground deafening in his ears. Maybe he is the idiot she declared him to be because he doesn’t waste any time in kissing her, teeth and tongue clashing with hers because she’s trying to keep the upper hand.

Mako knows this is just stalling the conflict and after they’re through, he’ll still be expected to give into her whims, and he decides that this time he wouldn’t. He is going to win.

Her mouth is bruising against his and he can’t help but show her a kiss of equal strength, his tongue unforgiving as it invades the space beyond her lips. Her hands are on his arms and his chest, her nails raking against the hard skin of his tense muscles. He’s got so much built up and he knows there’s only way to relieve it all - but that can wait. Because the main purpose of this is to make her back down.

He slides to the edge of his desk and she meets him, her body squeezing between his thighs so that she can reach down and grab the erection that seems to be growing beneath his pants. He can’t deny how attracted he is to her - how he wants to make her beg him for release. So he runs his hands down her back and over the curve of her behind. He smirks as she presses her hips against his, shifting a bit to create the agonizing friction.

There’s no time for her to react when he has her against the wall, his lips dragging down her jaw and her neck. She refuses to let out a sound, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. She’s fueled by her convictions and her pure frustration of him, but it feels so damn good. He knows the spot beneath her ear to make her roll of neck and let out a moan, but her hands are flat against his shoulders, trying to push him away. But it’s a weak attempt when he pushes back, his hands unforgiving as they slim down her body, dragging her shirt over her head where he finds her lips again.

She doesn’t waste any time as she tries to gain back the ground she’s lost. She hates how perfectly coiffed his hair is, how the uniform he takes such pride in is straight and unwrinkled. She wants him a mess, a mirror of the mess he makes her when he does something caring and sweet. Her teeth drag his bottom lip away from his mouth, nipping at the skin as she fists a hand in his hair.

Mako growls as he rips his mouth away, feeling strands of his hair break free from his scalp because she hasn’t let up. “Korra-” he hates that he breaks the silence of their angry pants and the sound of clothes falling to the ground. He wiggles his thigh between her legs in retaliation, almost picking her up as she straddles him.

“Just give up now,” she says as she wiggles on his leg and tries to hold back the moan that forms in her throat because the friction of his hard muscles against her is just what could make her lose. Pleasure shoots up and warms in her stomach, and it’s rare that she’s this worked up without his hands actually touching her bare skin, but he’s doing it on purpose and her nipples ache for his rough caress.

It’s hard for him to maintain eye contact with her because if he looks away, he’s meeting defeat. But he can feel her panting which means that just below his line of vision, he can tell just how much heaving her chest is doing. “I don’t give up anything. Especially when it means me being right,” she whispers under her breath - loud enough for him to hear. He glares at her and presses her shoulders back against the wall. He can hear her head hit it lightly before he’s pulling hard on the wrapping compressing her breasts down.

It has little give but he manages to kisses her hard while he burns at the cloth. He doesn’t even have to think about the careful line he has to make before it’s falling to the floor in scraps. He wastes no time in bowing his head and running his tongue against her hard peak. He realizes that she’s holding back now because he can tell by the way her eyes are shut that she’s concentrating on making no noise.

Her fingers run up his biceps, her nails unforgiving as they rake his skin until they’re in his hair. He likes the way she usually threads her fingers through his locks, messing it up - but today, she’s unforgiving. She retaliates against him and grabs it with hard tugs. He grunts with pain etched in his facial features before he’s pulling back, his gaze narrowing.

“I could walk away right now,” he retorts as he just leans in and latches his mouth on her neck, tasting the sweat beading against her skin and holding back his moan. He sucks on her skin before he steps away, knowing that if she doesn’t come back into his arms after a minute he’s going to have her on her back on the ground in no time. “And then who’ll take care of that ache between your legs?”

It’s his only weapon now, the knowledge that she hates to use her fingers more than anything when she has his there to pleasure her instead. Mako can’t help the smirk that twists his lips as he drops his hands to the top of his pants and pushes the front of them down enough to take himself in his hand. He pumps his hand once, noting the way her blue eyes linger on his length.

Korra licks her lips subconsciously and finally tears her eyes away from the cock that she can see twitching in his palm. It belongs to her, and she hates that he’s using that against her now. “Like you could walk away from me and be satisfied with just your hand,” she snaps, her body on edge and screaming to just find some way to end the torment.

“I could be,” he murmurs, giving his cock a stroke. He wants nothing more than to bend her over and have his way with her without holding back. He groans at the thought of having her on every single surface of his office until she has to walk out, stumbling so much that people will know without a shadow of a doubt that she’s been thoroughly fucked.

“You’re a liar,” she retorts before her thumbs are hooking into the waistband of her pants. His gaze falls when he sees the swell of her hips. He’s barely seen her moist folds and bites his lip, wanting to see her wet and needy for him. And then her pants fall to her ankles and he groans, fighting the urge to reach out his fingers to run down her thighs. It’s all he can do to not imagine them around his waist, his hands bruising them when he plows into her.

“I guess we’ll never know,” Mako tells her as his breath comes out in faint steam.

It’s evil when she begins to run her hands up her body and he follows their path until they end up cupping her breasts. He gulps and squeezes his cock, feeling the rush of pleasure when she squeezes them.

Something inside him breaks and he has her body sandwiched between the wall and him, wanting to feel her breasts against his chest and her moist folds against his knee when he uses it to part her legs. His hands skim down the back of her until he’s taking her thighs and picking her up so that her legs find themselves around his waist.

His desk is a mess when he puts her down atop the papers. She manages to tip over a bottle of ink and it topples to the floor.

Needless to say, he doesn’t really care.

Korra’s fingernails dig into his ass, urging him to not be gentle because every time he tries to slow their brutal pace he feels the stab and knows if he stops he might find himself facing a fight he wouldn’t be able to live through. 

And then she says his name and he’s gone.

His desk creaks in protest, each thrust causing the legs to threaten to buckle, and she bites her lip to keep the sounds within her even though she’s never felt so on edge in her entire life. Somehow his cock is hitting the exact right point inside of her with each of his thrusts, and she knows there’s no way she won’t reach her high mere moments from now. Korra bites down on his shoulder when his hand pinches her nipple, and she just lets go.

Dimly, she’s aware of Mako filling her, but she’s floating and boneless, and when she comes down she can’t help but lick the sweat from his neck and whisper, “I know you’re pretty dead wrong, Mako.”


End file.
